Page 94
Story: Keep Her from Them
He made a sound of disbelief and tipped his head back. “She said she was single but that she’d been on a few dates a month earlier with this man.” He spat the word. “An influencer her manager set her up with for the sake of good optics.”
“You didn’t tell me any of this.”
“I couldn’t. Not only for the fact that Elsie is intensely private, but because it scared the hell out of me. I imagine you know the feeling. Is he your boyfriend yet?”
I heaved a sigh. “Working on it.”
“Good. That boy has wife-me written all over him.” He found his phone. “In fact, hold still.” Dori took a shot.
“What are you doing?”
“You have a smudge of paint on your cheek and down the side of your hand. Love that he’s got you painting again.”
A whoosh sounded.
“Did you just send that to him?”
“Part payment for the helicopter ride. Your hair is a little messy, too. A man in love is going to go nuts over that shot.”
My cheeks warmed. My canvas and paints were in the spare bedroom, hidden away where no one could see. “Back away from my love life and return to yours. What broke you and Elsie up?”
Dori sobered. “The holiday ended, and she returned to the US. I had commitments elsewhere, but we spoke almost constantly when she wasn’t recording, and I was due to fly back to see her in two weeks. I would have changed everything for her. Where I lived. My whole shitty personality. She is so real. So fucking talented. She told me she adored me. Missed me every minute. That she needed me back. How could that not be love if she was blind to all my faults?”
I sensed his pain like it was a monster in the room. “Then how the hell is she marrying some guy who looks like a complete tool?”
Dori’s lip curled. “He live-streamed his proposal two days before I was due to fly over. She said yes. On air. Millions saw that video. Must’ve made him a killing.”
I reached for his hand. He gripped my fingers, emotion flushing his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I saw it. She seemed flat. Did you talk to her?”
“I got a single message from her official social media account. Here.”
He picked up his phone again and thumbed to a page then held it out. I read the message.
Ferdinand, sorry, but I won’t be able to see you as planned. It was great hanging out, but I’ll be busy for the foreseeable future. Thanks for all the support! Elsie.
I handed it back, wariness descending over me. “There’s no way the woman you described wrote that. It’s so clinical, and I can’t imagine you had her use your first name. No one does.”
“Never. She doesn’t run that account either. Her publicist does. She joked with me that she doesn’t even have the password.” He flicked to a different account. “This is hers.”
I examined it. This version of the musician had thirty-five friends and shared real pictures of her life. Pretty ones, but informal and far more personal.
“The account’s been dead since that last post,” Dori added.
It was a picture of a couple beside a tropical lagoon, white sand, tan lines, and nothing but love in their eyes. Her and Dori.
My heart ached all the more.
He took back the phone and tossed it into his bag on the floor by the sofa, emotion visibly rocking him. “I tried to walk away. She’s an adult. She made her choices. But then I saw the engagement picture and just…flipped. There was evidence that built up and up in my head until I couldn’t ignore it. If there was any chance I was wrong, I had to take it.”
“What evidence?”
“Not only her expression in that video, but the fact it took eleven months for them to have an engagement party which was only a few weeks before their wedding. Why would that be if she wasn’t pushing back? The other thing was her music. She wrote two songs with me. Both were killer. Neither made it to the album she’s releasing in September. Hints have been dropped for every track, and none are those.”
“So you flew to Milan.”
“Yes, super sleuth. I found out where the party was happening and hired a car then drove out to the lakeside hotel. The influencer’s brother and a posse of hangers-on met me at the gate, as if they’d guessed I’d show. I never even saw Elsie.”
“You didn’t tell me any of this.”
“I couldn’t. Not only for the fact that Elsie is intensely private, but because it scared the hell out of me. I imagine you know the feeling. Is he your boyfriend yet?”
I heaved a sigh. “Working on it.”
“Good. That boy has wife-me written all over him.” He found his phone. “In fact, hold still.” Dori took a shot.
“What are you doing?”
“You have a smudge of paint on your cheek and down the side of your hand. Love that he’s got you painting again.”
A whoosh sounded.
“Did you just send that to him?”
“Part payment for the helicopter ride. Your hair is a little messy, too. A man in love is going to go nuts over that shot.”
My cheeks warmed. My canvas and paints were in the spare bedroom, hidden away where no one could see. “Back away from my love life and return to yours. What broke you and Elsie up?”
Dori sobered. “The holiday ended, and she returned to the US. I had commitments elsewhere, but we spoke almost constantly when she wasn’t recording, and I was due to fly back to see her in two weeks. I would have changed everything for her. Where I lived. My whole shitty personality. She is so real. So fucking talented. She told me she adored me. Missed me every minute. That she needed me back. How could that not be love if she was blind to all my faults?”
I sensed his pain like it was a monster in the room. “Then how the hell is she marrying some guy who looks like a complete tool?”
Dori’s lip curled. “He live-streamed his proposal two days before I was due to fly over. She said yes. On air. Millions saw that video. Must’ve made him a killing.”
I reached for his hand. He gripped my fingers, emotion flushing his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I saw it. She seemed flat. Did you talk to her?”
“I got a single message from her official social media account. Here.”
He picked up his phone again and thumbed to a page then held it out. I read the message.
Ferdinand, sorry, but I won’t be able to see you as planned. It was great hanging out, but I’ll be busy for the foreseeable future. Thanks for all the support! Elsie.
I handed it back, wariness descending over me. “There’s no way the woman you described wrote that. It’s so clinical, and I can’t imagine you had her use your first name. No one does.”
“Never. She doesn’t run that account either. Her publicist does. She joked with me that she doesn’t even have the password.” He flicked to a different account. “This is hers.”
I examined it. This version of the musician had thirty-five friends and shared real pictures of her life. Pretty ones, but informal and far more personal.
“The account’s been dead since that last post,” Dori added.
It was a picture of a couple beside a tropical lagoon, white sand, tan lines, and nothing but love in their eyes. Her and Dori.
My heart ached all the more.
He took back the phone and tossed it into his bag on the floor by the sofa, emotion visibly rocking him. “I tried to walk away. She’s an adult. She made her choices. But then I saw the engagement picture and just…flipped. There was evidence that built up and up in my head until I couldn’t ignore it. If there was any chance I was wrong, I had to take it.”
“What evidence?”
“Not only her expression in that video, but the fact it took eleven months for them to have an engagement party which was only a few weeks before their wedding. Why would that be if she wasn’t pushing back? The other thing was her music. She wrote two songs with me. Both were killer. Neither made it to the album she’s releasing in September. Hints have been dropped for every track, and none are those.”
“So you flew to Milan.”
“Yes, super sleuth. I found out where the party was happening and hired a car then drove out to the lakeside hotel. The influencer’s brother and a posse of hangers-on met me at the gate, as if they’d guessed I’d show. I never even saw Elsie.”
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